


Folklore

by greyorchids



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Imprinting, F/M, Lmao these tags though, Mating Bond, Meet-Cute, Potentially OOC, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Spells & Enchantments, Wall Sex, rough-ish sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyorchids/pseuds/greyorchids
Summary: "Do you know what you are?" He asks, and I barely register that he's come to stand in front of me."Very confused." I manage, and he laughs. He scans my face like it might answer for me."You have something," he whispers and motions closely to my chest, "that a lot of people want." My blood freezes and my chest burns where his fingers hover.





	1. Horseshoe

**Author's Note:**

> I am eagerly jumping onto the Mad Sweeney heart-eyes train. I actually might be the new conductor of this locomotive, hot damn. What follows is an unedited, non-beta'ed smut bunny that is now a part of both of our lives. Enjoy.

Trying not to think about how little is left in my wallet, I delicately place a bill on bar. 

 

The jagged glowing teeth feel like they could close on me without a second thought and I know I've been nursing my drink far longer than reasonable. The night is empty and still - if I didn't know better I'd swear time itself had stopped and I'm just spinning in my own misery. 

 

"I'll get you your change." A brisk voice clips at me as the money disappears into the hands of an older woman. 

 

"It's all yours." I reply and she gives me a slight nod. Sliding off the barstool, I throw on my jacket, aware of the eyes that follow as I turn towards the door. 

 

Why did it have to be here? This place. This completely shitty place? The edges of my brother's photograph burn a hole in my wallet. Why did this have to be the last place that idiot was seen? I push open the door and the air is lifeless. The parking lot is a ghost town, and shadows from dull lampposts stain the concrete beneath my feet. 

 

"You hoping to run into someone specific?" An unfamiliar voice rings behind me and I gasp despite myself.

 

"Jesus -" I turn to tell the asshole to fuck right off when his frame fills my vision. His stance makes me grip my purse and pull at my jacket. His mouth presses into a line and he flicks his cigarette into the air. 

 

"Nah, Jesus isn't around much these days. He wouldn't fancy you confusing him with the likes of me, either." He steps towards me and instinctively I step back.

 

"Can I help you with something?" I ask, cursing my brother and every shitty decision he's made that led me to this moment. The man laughs with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. 

 

"I'm thinking you're the one who needs help from me." There's something dark in his voice and I don't know if I should run or head back into the bar. I can start to feel my heart racing within my chest - please don't murder me. Not tonight. 

 

"I'm good. Thanks." My voice sounds a whisper. I take another step back before turning and walking with great determination towards my car. I get closer and grip my keys when he speaks again. 

 

"You forgot something." His voice sounds close behind me, and I pause. I shove my hand into my purse, fingers sliding over receipts and Chapstick until I grip the bear spray I swore I wouldn't need. Turning to face him, he lifts his palm. With a quick movement of his hand a small piece of paper appears. 

 

As he moves the paper between his fingers, he never looks away from me. Maybe that's why it takes me so long to realize the paper is my brother's photo. His dumb face disappearing and reappearing with every flick of my soon-to-be murderer's hands. 

 

"Where did you get that?" I know it couldn't have fallen out of my wallet but I'm too afraid to look. 

 

"You've been here late all week." He says, motioning to the bar and ignoring my question. He steps towards me again. I can smell the beer on him from where I stand. I'm also pretty sure there's blood on his shirt. 

 

"Aren't you a little too clean for a place this dirty?" His eyes narrow and as he flexes his hand the photo disappears. 

 

This is for sure how I die. "So you're a magician? Pick-pocket?" I try to continue but my throat closes and I look around to see if there's anyone I can scream to. 

 

"None of the above," he smirks, "but I know when someone's luck has run out." 

 

His grin makes my brain light up with fear. 

 

"I don't have any money," I blurt out, "please, I just...please just let me leave." 

 

His brow furrows. "Money?" He mulls the word over more than he asks a question. He moves his hands - with a snap a coin bounces in the air and lands at my feet.

 

"I don't want your money." He drawls, his eyes burning through me. As his jaw clenches, my chest tightens. The stages of grief passing through me - denial, anger, bargaining...jumping to acceptance.

 

"Please don't hurt me." I say, and feel tears in my eyes and I hate that I'm scared and that I'm here at all. 

 

My vision blurs and I hear him swear under his breath. 

 

"If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be hurt." His tone is much more jovial than you'd think was appropriate, and I blink to look up at him, confusion and fear surely written on my face.

 

Almost exasperated, he snaps and my brother's photo returns to his grip. "I think I know where to find him. And can help you get there." 

 

Nodding like an idiot, I clear my throat and try to casually start over. 

 

"Why didn't you start with that?" I ask rhetorically, and cross my arms, breathing too deeply. 

 

"Where is he? I need to find him." I try to sound less desperate than I am. 

 

"He's around. Not going to be easy for you to waltz in and chat, looking like that." He motions to my dress and pulls out a cigarette. 

 

"You got a place to go tonight?" He asks. As I take a breath to answer he chimes in for me.

 

"Nah, you don't, do you? Come on, then." He starts walking down the road, and I follow a step behind him. 

 

"What about my car?" I ask. 

 

"It will be there in the morning." 

 

The smoke from his cigarette wafts over me and I cough. He mumbles something under his breath and reaches back for my arm, pulling me up beside him by the cuff of my jacket. Out of the smoke's path, I risk a glance up at him. His face is unreadable and his red hair under the occasional light almost glows. I have to walk twice as fast to match his pace. 

 

Now that he's beside me it's obvious how tall he is. His leather jacket does little to conceal the width of his frame - it's a bit like walking next to an insane giant. Assuming he's not walking me to my death, it's almost reassuring to have him between me and road. The fact that he's the best lead I've had is equal parts elating and pathetic. 

 

"Home sweet home." He says as he turns onto a walkway a few blocks from the bar. The stones disappear into darkness and I stop, fear creeping into me once more. He looks back at me and snuffs out his cigarette. 

 

"You're like a bucket of blood in a shark tank out here." With that he continues down the path and I follow without another word.

 

The air changes from stale to crisp. Fresh earth and dew fills my lungs as I hear him open a door in near darkness. I step inside and without warning light fills the space and I blink, taking in the raw wood floors and the smell of pine. 

 

He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto a chair. His arms seem more imposing than I could have imagined. I turn away and place my purse on the floor. Feeling flush, I take off my jacket. look around and try to act less awkward than I feel. I'm not betting that it's a successful endeavour. 

 

I want to ask where my brother is, how I can get to him or how he managed to stalk me for a week without me noticing but instead I ask, "So, are you going to tell me how you did that magic trick." I wiggle my fingers as I speak, much to my horror.

 

"Not a magic trick." He replies, taking off his shirt and cracking his neck. I don't mean to, but I nearly fall back at the sight of him. I look away and try to find a neutral expression for my face. I'm certain that I fail. 

 

"What are you doing, are you crazy?" I ask and he tsks at my words.

 

"I don't mind if you look." He says with a confidence I'll never know. 

 

"Oh, I wasn't -"

 

"Yeah you were. Don't worry, I'm looking at you too." 

 

I can't even find a word to say. Mouth open, I ignore the heat filling my body and I try to shake my head as if that would undo the last 30 seconds. 

 

"Do you know what you are?" He asks, and I barely register that he's come to stand in front of me. 

 

"Very confused." I manage, and he laughs, scanning my face like it might answer for me. 

 

"You have something," he whispers and motions closely to my chest, "that a lot of people want." My blood freezes and my chest burns where his fingers hover. This is the first familiar thing I've heard all week. 

 

"You sound like my brother." I choke out, more certain than ever that this stranger does know that stupid irresponsible ass. My brother's rambling and nonsensical rants suddenly fill my memory. 

 

"Then your brother must be a smart man." He smirks and I jump as my back hits the wall behind me. He's close enough that I think I feel the heat from his body. 

 

"Who are you?" I ask, not sure I even know what answer I'm looking for. 

 

"Someone who's been waiting for you." He runs his hand across his mouth and I feel myself pressing deeper into the wall. 

 

"I don't think I'm who you think I am." I say, my voice more bold than before. 

 

"Oh I know exactly who you are. Before you even entered the bar. Before you were born, I reckon." He doesn't get any closer and I look away from him, towards the stories - the fantasies - that my brother would slur to me as he slumped in front of his toilet, bottle in hand. 

 

"And just my luck - you're actually meant for for me." This time when he speaks he sounds in awe. I look up and his eyes meet mine with less aggression than before. 

 

"I'm not meant for anyone." I say, tentatively standing up as straight as I can. He laughs lightly, rubbing his jaw. Placing his hands on the wall around me, he dips down and studies my face.

 

"Want me to show you?" He asks, and I feel my mouth slack. I can feel a rush through my veins and a tightness through my body. 

 

"I don't think that is a good idea." I say, shaking slightly under his gaze. 

 

"It's the only idea." He says with a laugh. He looks down at me and his head tilts, waiting for me to speak, but I cannot find a word in the blur of skin around me. 

 

"Do you trust me?" He asks. 

 

"No," I scoff, "I don't." 

 

"Well, you're smarter than most." He says, stepping back and crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

 

"Do us both a favour and touch me." He says like he's inviting me to join him for tea. I laugh now, unable to tell if he's serious.

 

"What?" 

 

"Touch me. Anywhere you like." He shrugs his shoulders and runs his tongue over his teeth behind his lips. He really is crazy. 

 

"Touch you," I ask, "for what reason?" 

 

"So you can see for yourself why I want you to." He answers like it's the most natural thing to say in the world. Certain he'll be let down with the outcome, I hear a half-laugh, half-huff escape me. 

 

"Yeah, why not. Everything else has been totally normal up to this point, why should I start asking questions now." I say more to myself than to him, who's mouth twists down in thought. 

 

"Don't be so sure of what you're not sure of." He tosses the advice into the space between us and my eyes narrow. With little more than a shrug I extend my finger towards his crossed arms. 

 

"This is the most pointless-" my throats drops to my stomach as my finger presses into him. It feels like a lightning bolt through my arm and I feel an unmistakable ache between my legs. I pull my hand back like I've been burned. 

 

Looking up at him, his eyes are heavy. His head rolls back and with a desperate tone he steps towards me. What was that? 

 

"Do it again." He asks, standing a hair's width away. I start to say no when I realize I don't want to. His hands at his sides, I move to run my fingers against his arm. The initial touch takes my breath away. 

 

Sliding along the length of his arm, I feel his muscles tighten and release as a wave of heat flows through me. It's electric. I feel him brace himself against the wall and I realize my eyes are closed, a sigh of pleasure leaves my lips and I press myself against him. 

 

"Fuck." He grinds out, vibrating against me. As my hand reaches his shoulder I realize I can feel him, hard as concrete, against my stomach. The ache within me tightens and I press harder against him, desperate for him to touch me. Jesus, what am I doing? 

 

I pull back, a cry of pleasure still in my throat. What the fuck. I look up at him, my hand moving to cover my mouth. 

 

"What is that?" I ask. 

 

"That's you," he breathes, voice low, "that's us." 

 

I am still for what feels like eternity. Just breathing and trying to remember a time before the only thing that mattered was his skin against mine.

 

"Kiss me." He demands, his face close to my own. Out of sheer desire and impatience, I square my shoulders. 

 

"If you want it so badly, why don't you take it?" I barely recognize my voice as I meet his eyes. His face twists into a wicked grin and he squares himself right back, his height and closeness pinning me without ties. 

 

"I'd much rather you to give it to me." His smirk strikes through my body and I feel it in my knees. 

 

What a cocky little shit. I feel like I could jump out of my skin, but instead I run my hands through my hair, trying to maintain whatever composure I thought I had. He's too tall to reach his mouth from where I stand, and I nearly groan in frustration. Without hesitation I press my arms around his neck and lean into his inhuman electricity. He sways on his feet and I run a hand through his hair, tugging slightly as my body wavers against him. His head falls towards me and I tilt myself to meet his lips with blinding heat. 

 

I slide my mouth over his, feeling every atom of friction at my core. The roughness of his beard lights me on fire. His arms stay at his side and I kiss him harder, more desperate than I've ever been in my life just to feel him touch me. The tension inside me reaches an unbearable peak and I press harder against him, the contact sending a shock through my entire body. I break away as I moan into his neck, and suddenly there is emptiness. It takes me a moment to realize he's stepped back and my hands are shaking at my sides. The look on his face is of pure desire, and I nearly pinch myself to stop staring at the strain against his pants. 

 

"My turn." He says as he grabs me by the hips, my back hitting the wall with a delicious thud. His mouth finds mine with ferocity and all I think is yes. Grinding himself into me I wrap my legs around him and swear against his mouth. A hand grips the hair at the base of my head, the other slides up my body gripping my breast too harshly but all I feel is overwhelming pleasure. His grip tightens and I cry out, desperate for more. He leans back, his impressive length pressed against me and I brace my hands on his shoulders. He tugs at my sundress, unceremoniously pulling it over my head and sending it to the floor in a deft movement. His hand reaches around and snaps open my bra, the touch causing me to arch into him. I gasp at the cold air against my chest, and a guttural noise rises in his throat. He twists my underwear around his hand and pulls, the fabric burning against my thigh. 

 

He takes me by the mouth and I ache at the taste of him. His mouth never leaving mine, he unhooks my legs and holds me so my feet just touch the floor. I feel my underwear fall and his hand runs over me in it's place. I nearly scream at the sensation and instinctively grip him tighter, the sensation is almost unbearable. 

 

"I need you." I whisper in between gasps, embarrassed and shocked at the words coming out of my mouth. Maybe I am the insane one. I can feel him smile as he gently ghosts over my skin, running his fingers from my belly button down in between my legs. They nearly give out at his touch. I don't think I can take another second of the void I feel inside me and I try to unbuckle his belt, sliding to my knees. 

 

His hand moves over his belt, the sound of metal filling my ears. Mercifully, the belt opens and I pull at his pants, freeing the incredible and incredibly hard cock I've been feeling against me. I run a hand over his length, feeling his skin buzz beneath my hand. I can't even wait to run my tongue over the head, slowly taking him in my mouth with a groan. His hands grip my hair as his hips buck into me, my head against the wall. Feeling him in my mouth is almost too much to bear. He swears loudly and I pull back, his dick covered with my spit. He pulls me up by the hair. 

 

"I want to hear you say it." He says as I try to focus on his face. His voice is low and grip tightens. It feels like I'm drunk, the way I can barely focus on the world spinning around me. Somehow I know what he's asking, and I don't know how. 

 

"I am for you." I say, my hands running over him, pulling him closer. 

 

"Again." 

 

"I am for you." I beg, and he lifts me off the floor by the hips once more, his slick cock between us. 

 

"I am for you." He answers, pulling back and placing himself at my entrance. 

 

My nails are in his back, my head hits the wall and he presses into me without hesitation. The fullness makes me scream out, his length searing inside me. He swears and grabs at me, a single thrust pushes me into the wall and I feel myself tightening around him. Fuck. I've never felt this intensity in my life. He pulls out and his hips buck right back into me and I feel my body shake around him. I'm going to come, I can feel the pressure take over and I struggle to catch my breath. He slides out, it's almost painful, and with a deep thrust I explode. I feel myself tighten uncontrollably and I can't breathe. His mouth on my neck, I feel him fuck me through waves of pleasure. He bites the skin where neck meets shoulder and it burns beautifully. As he moves inside me, I feel myself tightening again, unbelievable pressure begging for release. 

 

"Oh god." I gasp as he moves faster, his cock buried in me with every movement. His hands fall to my hips, ensuring every thrust hits me as deep as possible it almost hurts. For a second I think he might fuck a hole right through me. I writher between him and the wall, a desire to be closer rewriting itself onto every thought I have. He slams into me, my scream ringing in my ears as I lose control. I feel him join me, his pace rushed and uneven. As he groans, he presses deep inside of me, his cock throbbing with every pulse as he empties himself into me. 

 

A minute or an hour passes as we hold each other, shaking and gripping onto whatever flesh we can. He presses his lips into my hair, breathing deeply and I sigh. Warmth and happiness fill me, and soon we slide to the floor. When he pulls out a small sound of loss is on my lips. He pulls me close against him on the floor, vice grip around my waist. My eyes flutter closed, and darkness closes in around me. 

 

I don't even know his name.


	2. Balloon

When my eyes open the first thing I notice is how cold I am. Sitting up, I realize I'm in a bed, a dark sheet around me. I'm also alone. 

Maybe I hallucinated everything. I clear my throat and throw my legs over the edge. Maybe I got a hotel last night and everything else was nothing more than a weird fantasy dream? My legs burn and I notice a bruise forming on my arm. I reluctantly accept that yes, I really did have weirdly intense sex with someone I knew for less than 30 minutes. I groan and fall back against the bed. 

A throat clears behind me. 

"Didn't want to wake you." He says, resting on the doorframe. I glance at him - he's wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans that hang daringly on his hips. His auburn trail disappearing beneath the open zipper. I look away, willing myself not to think about it. His expression is cautious and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking. Or what I'm thinking, for that matter.

When I don't say anything he continues, "I moved you in here, thought it best to take you off the floor." 

I nod tightly. This means he scooped me out of a puddle of his semen, I'm sure. The thought causes me to grimace and curl into myself. Why did I do this to myself? 

"I brought you something. You were out for awhile." He steps towards the bed and I see he has a take-out box in his hands. He holds it out to me but I can't move. 

After a beat he continues, "It's breakfast." I can't take the way his tone borders on hopeful, so I sit up to take the box - careful not to touch him - and try to get my bearings. 

"Thank you." I say, my voice quiet. He steps back, studying me, and I can't meet his eyes. An ache throbs at my core and with trembling hands I place the box down beside me. 

"I need to know what's going on." I chance a look at him as I move back against the headboard. 

"Want the long or the short version?" He asks, his eyes on my lips. 

"Both. Start with the short one." His eyes snap to mine and I hold his gaze. 

"Your ancestors either pissed of or impressed, depends who you ask, an enchanter. Now you're irresistible to us, but you only get reciprocation from one." 

Mmmhmm, right, "What do you mean, 'us'?" 

He pauses. 

"Gods. Mostly." 

"Mostly?" 

"I'm a leprechaun." 

Okay fuck this. I take a breath to tell him off when his face creases, and my mouth snaps closed. His jaw clenches and he huffs air from his chest. I sense this is a conversation he's had before. Suspending my disbelief for a moment, I press for more information. 

"You are trying to tell me that there are gods, you are basically one of them, and you all want to fuck me?" He sucks the air in between his teeth. 

"Bit more complicated than that, but yeah that's about it." 

"And I just exist for your pleasure?" I balk and he steps forward. 

"No, if you meet who you're meant for, you experience as much - maybe more - than we ever could." 

"Yeah, you keep saying that...how do you know I'm meant for you?"

"I could see it," he starts, "and you've already felt it." 

He steps closer and I jump up on the mattress to move up and away from him and his wild eyes. It's now that I realize I'm still naked. I cross my arms around myself and he shakes his head. 

"How do you know that I wouldn't feel this way about all of you?" It sounds more like an accusation than I mean it to. I do like that for once I'm not looking up at him, though. 

"Now listen here," he starts, leaning over the bed, "you don't want to find out what happens to people like you that meet someone else along the way."

"Why?" I ask, moving further away from him. 

He swears under his breath and steps up onto the bed with ease. He reaches for my hand and I pull back but his arm wraps around my shoulders pulling me against him with a strong tug. The heat is instant. The pressure of his skin against mine melts my mind, my skin, my thoughts...I feel his mouth at my ear.

"Because you'd be raped, for the eternity of your life, and all they would feel is how you feel right now." 

He runs his arms over my back, threading into my hair and tilting my head up towards him. I am sure my legs are giving out. I can sense every vein in my body, alight with fire and burning with the need for more. I can hear myself gasp as his skin slides against mine, his mouth moving to my temple. Even more delightful is the vibration of his skin, the rumble in his chest and the instant hardness between us screaming to me that he feels what I'm feeling. 

"When you showed up that first night, it took every might I had not to throw you over the bar and claim you in front of every rotten gimp plastered off their ass. But I don't have to do that. Because you'll always want me too." His voice is low and it sends a strike of desire through me. I grip at his arms, my balance completely lost, and I know, disgustingly and infuriatingly that he's not wrong. I can feel my heartbeat between my legs and press into him. I want him. 

"Okay." I mumble, unable to find the words I'm trying to say. Without realizing it, my hands are on his pants, and he lifts me up enough to pull me on top of him as he flips back onto the mattress. He keeps his hands on my hips, straddling him as I land. I groan at the friction and brace my arms on his chest. 

His fingers close around my wrists, his eyes dark, "I won't ever let another touch you." He says it not as a threat but like a declaration. I know it would creepy if this whole situation wasn't creepy. Fuck, it's probably still creepy. I just can't seem to care at this moment. I move down his body, the desire to please him pulsing through me. With a light tug, his pants are down and his dick bounces up, as if it's been dying for my touch. I run my tongue over his length and he swears, hand twisting into a ball of my hair. 

I lightly run my mouth over him, gentle licks causing him to flinch with pleasure. He groans and watches me lower my mouth over his straining cock. He's huge and I love it. Even if he wasn't a kinda-god I think I'd worship him. As my lips reach as far down as I can go I watch his head fall back, hand tight in my hair as he draws in a ragged breath. I love the way he aches beneath my touch, his grip begging for more, and more faster. 

I slowly lift up, taking my time and I smile as he looks down at me, urgent eyes and a smirk forming on his lips. 

"That's how it's going to be, eh?" He asks, his hips moving beneath me. 

"Yeah, it is." I breathe, ghosting my mouth along his hips, kissing the burning skin as I go. 

He laughs darkly, removing his hands from me and placing them behind his head. 

"Do your worst." He grinds out, and I run my hand up his shaft, my tongue running down his hip. He tastes like everything I've ever loved. He swears as I take him little by little in my mouth, a painfully slow suck as I lift up, his dick rigid and wet, which makes me shake with every movement. I can feel myself - drenched - and I moan as I slide my mouth over him, his length at the back of my throat. 

I bounce ever so slightly up and down, and he grinds out above me, "I'll make you pay for this." He says it with such delight, and it makes my heart jump. 

I slow down even more, addicted to the way his cock pulses in tandem with his heartbeat. I can't resist running my hands up his body towards his chest, the broad muscles like hot rocks under my skin. He hisses something I can't make out but it fills me with satisfaction. Watching him flex beneath me as I bring him closer to the edge may have just become my new favourite thing. 

He tightly laces his fingers behind his head, pressing back into the mattress with a groan. 

"You better hope you can take it as mean as you give it." He breathes out as he says it, his voice demanding and pleading all at the same time. I can hear my blood rushing through my ears, and all I can think is him. Watching him shift with anticipation, I take him deep into my mouth, my hand at the base of his throbbing cock. 

He jerks at the pressure of my fingers around him and nearly growls as I increase my force. I begin to move my hand in time with my mouth and he swears loudly, hands unclasped. 

I pull off just long enough to grab his arm, bringing it towards me, "Touch me." I ask, before resuming my pace. He doesn't hesitate. His hands move over my face, into my hair, moving with me. 

I feel his body and his grip tighten. I moan instinctively, desperate to taste him, and he pulls me harder towards him. 

With a clipped sound of ecstasy he fills my mouth, my movements slowing as he finishes with deep sound of completion. I swallow everything, practically buzzing with satisfaction. He lies still with the exception of his laboured breathing. His eyes are closed, hands lifeless in my hair and I sigh, resting against his hip. It feels like there is a flow of energy rushing through us, and I feel flooded by him. 

After a moment he taps at his chest, "Come here." I move up on the bed and lay next to him, head on his shoulder. I close my eyes and relish in his tranquil state and the fact that I caused it. 

This is so weird. 

"Tell your name." He breathes, eyes still closed. 

"Sophia. What's yours?" 

He lets out a breath and says my name, testing the word in his mouth; "People haven't called me by my name in some time." His eyes are still closed, and I smile at the freckles on his shoulders. 

"Tell me." 

"Buile. Buile Shuibhne." It sounds like nothing I've heard before. 

"Wait say it again." I ask, sitting up. He opens his eyes to look at me, and repeats his name. I say it back to him and he smiles. 

"Close enough." He pulls me against his chest and I laugh lightly. 

"I'll get it right eventually." I say, running my hand over his chest. He sighs at the contact and wraps his arms around me. 

"You can call me whatever you want." He answers, stretching beneath me. I want to ask him everything. 

"How old are you?" I ask. 

"Nearly a thousand years." 

I pull back to look at him, "Are you serious?" 

"Afraid so. Tell me you're of age, at least." I cough to stop myself from choking. 

"Um, yes. I'm 26," I stammer, "would you still have slept with me if I was underage?" 

"I would have tried not to." He answers, and I lean back, slightly stunned. At the loss of contact he turns towards me. "I would have done anything you wanted me to. Even if it meant not devouring you." 

"Oh." Is all I can manage as a wave of heat fills me and I study the lines of his face. Each imperfection feels like a discovery of ancient treasure. Is this how the rest of my life will be? Coloured and distorted by him? It scares me that I wouldn't mind.

"You said you could help me find my brother." I say, trying to overcome the thrum of comfort and desire that swirls within me. 

"Yeah, we are going to have to go on a little road trip." 

"Do you know where he is?"

"Not exactly, but I know someone that will."


	3. Clovers

I clear my throat and move away from him to think straight. I try to fight the nagging instinct to press every inch of my body against his. He turns and looks over me, and I look right back, feeling a connection that's unbroken despite the lack of contact. 

"You never asked if I had a boyfriend." I say, not breaking my gaze. His mouth cracks into a half smirk. 

"Boyfriend?" Well some ass he is if he left you alone to fall in with the likes of me." His eyes swirl with just a hint of mischief and I laugh, sitting up in bed. 

"Believe it or not I can hold my own." Throwing my legs over the bed, his throaty laugh makes me nearly lose my balance. 

"I believe it." He says, watching me head for the door. It's so odd to look at a stranger but see something familiar. I would normally never feel confident enough to strut around naked in front of anyone but his gaze serves to fuel my boldness. 

"Be right back." I mummer and I head towards the bathroom, closing the door with a sigh. 

Stepping in front of the mirror I nearly gasp. I look thoroughly and wholly fucked. My hair is beyond disheveled; dark strands lay partly straight and in partly defiant waves around my face. I try to run my fingers through it without success. My arms have bruises, my mouth is red from his beard and my skin looks permanently flushed. I suddenly feel extremely human and extremely gross. 

Popping my head out the door I call out to him, "Mind if I use your shower?" 

"Give it hell." He calls back and I find myself smiling as I prepare the hottest shower of my life. 

In the closed space behind the plastic curtain and away from his inescapable pull, I try to remember why I came here. My stupid idiot brother who never knew when to shut his stupid idiot mouth. I came here to find him and I can't lose focus just because...something crazy is happening to me. I think this has to do with what my brother has been raving on about for all these years. Gods, control and sacrifice. The way he would tell me about things that aren't real - he was so convincing I nearly believed him. Looking at my flushed complexion I think maybe I do believe him. That I always believed him. He may not be absolutely insane but he is lost. 

I take my time in the shower, which is oddly empty minus some sad looking soap. I do my best to feel a bit better than I look and grab a towel as I step out of the tub. The mirror is coated with steam and I begin to dry off. 

There's a soft knock on the door. "Come in." I respond reflexively and wrap the towel tighter around myself. 

"Thought you might need this." He says, my dress and bra in his hand. I catch his eyes and feel that pull, that delicious and painful feeling running through me. I clear my throat. 

"Thank you." I collect them from his grip, my fingers brushing over his fist - a wave of heat reaches my core and I step back.

"Your underwear didn't make it." He says, voice husky and raw. His eyes god damn near twinkle and the desire to touch him swells in my chest. His shit-eating grin does nothing to soothe the ache. 

"This thing doesn't take a break, huh?" I joke, motioning between us and he leans against the wall of the bathroom. I turn to the mirror to try to cool the burn in my cheeks. 

"Suppose it's only going to get more powerful." He says casually, but he looks me over like a starving man at the sight of food.

"I don't think that's possible." My laugh is nervous and he catches my eye in the mirror. 

"Give it time." He answers. His certainty unsettles me, though that's nothing new. Noticing that he hasn't made a move to leave, I look over my shoulder.

"Can a girl get a bit of privacy?" I ask, immediately filling with heat at the thought of him watching. 

His mouth frowns, "I thought maybe you'd need a helping hand." Unmoving, he doesn't look away. I break first; coughing slightly and I face the mirror again, this time with shaking hands braced on the vanity. 

"To get dressed?" I ask weakly and I feel him move behind me, his frame outlining my own. 

"Yeah, we really aught to get going." He places his hands on either side of mine. His weight presses me into the linoleum-lined sink. I lose my breath, and the world spins as I'm pined under his unbelievable heat. I can feel his hardness against my back and I roll my head up against his chest. 

"Okay." I murmur as his lips ghost my temples, searing a line down to my neck. It feels like my veins will rupture any second and - fuck. He pulls the towel off of me with a forceful tug and I moan as it is replaced by the warmth of his body. 

"Do you need some help getting dressed?" He asks into my ear and I barely hear him over the rushing of blood. 

"Yes." I breathe, and he pushes me forward. I just have time to brace myself against the mirror, my face near the taps. I feel his hand run up between my legs and I nearly whimper at the electricity that strikes through me. His fingers run over me and I can't control the way my body hitches, pressing back to feel him, even a little bit more. When his finger presses against me, I feel how wet I am, and I cry out despite every inch of me begging not to make a sound. 

"I think I can help you." He asserts, and he pulls his hand away to run over my ass. In a lightning strike, he slaps the skin and I swear, groaning as I gasp for air. It hurts. It hurts really good. 

He removes his hand and I tense in anticipation. Like a rubber band he snaps against my skin and the sound fills the bathroom, quickly followed by my sounds of pleasure. 

He slaps me again, his palm hitting in such a way that I feel myself respond to the tight quick pain of his hand. Jesus, what is happening to me? This time when his skin connects with mine my voice cracks through the silence, body arching. I can feel my legs shaking beneath me. 

He slaps me again, and I can hear him groan from within his chest. The sound of my raw skin is echoing in my ears as the pressure between my legs pulses, and I try to speak.

"Please." I whisper through ragged breath and he answers with a tight slap - my hips jerking beneath him. His hand runs through my soaked hair, tightening as he hits my ass with a methodical cruelty. 

"Please, I can't-" I gasp as his hand hits my sensitive skin and his voice fills the room. 

"You know I'm thinking," he taunts from behind me, "that you can't take it so well, after all." I groan at the thought of him delighting in my agony. 

He laughs lightly, "How are you feeling?" I choke a little at the question, withering against the sink. The strength of his arm holds me in place at my centre and I press myself up enough to look at his reflection through the mirror. His split-grin softens and he caresses my stinging skin. 

"I feel like...we're even now." I try to stop my voice from shaking, and he brings his face to mine. 

"We're definitely not even," he grinds into my ear, "but I might give it to you anyways." I groan as he pulls away, a loud slap fills the room and I hiss, pressing myself into the vanity. 

His hand leaves the grip of my hair, running the length of my arm, his fingers sliding between mine on the mirror. The friction sets my skin on fire, his groan bursting through the sound of his belt opening behind me. I nearly scream in anticipation, his fingers grazing over me with featherweight strength. 

I can feel him against my entrance, and I try not to press back against him, as if that’s the most desperate thing I've done in the last 24 hours. With my hand in his against the mirror he slowly presses himself inside me, displacing the air from my chest as he does it. I can see stars and I feel myself throb around him. His movements are slow and with every thrust I feel closer to losing control of my body. If he wasn't pinning me against the vanity I think I'd be on the floor. My legs feel numb and I want...all of him. I reach back with my free hand, pointlessly trying to pull him closer to me. He takes pity on my helplessness and pulls me back, his mouth on my neck and his hand running up the length of my body. He swears as he hits the flesh of my breasts, gripping me with a deep sound of approval. 

His hands settle on my hips and he turns me to face him. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck, his mouth catching mine with force. His lips are warm and strong and I press up against him, craving more closeness. He gently lifts me, setting me down on the linoleum, a hiss escaping me as my sensitive skin hits the surface. 

His large hands frame my face as his mouth slides over mine, his skin buzzing against me. His touch is needful, not demanding, and I feel...different. My arms slide down over his shoulders, pressing slightly to pull away from hold he has on my mouth. 

I can see his laboured breathing in the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes look like something a harlequin novel would describe like "a storm at sea" and I don't know if I stopped to say something or to just look at the person causing me to think his eyes look like a storm at sea. Whatever the reason, he looks back, studying my face and pressing his hands deeper into my hair. I can hear my heartbeat - the thud against my chest aches and I slowly close the distance between us, my mouth touching his with a weightless brush. He is still, and lets me set the pace and pressure, smiling against my lips. It takes me a minute to realize I'm smiling too. 

The bathroom spins around me, and I groan into his mouth as his hand slides down my neck and rests on my back, pulling me close against his chest. I run my hand through his hair, tugging slightly to get a better angle at his mouth. I can feel the groan from his chest and he pulls at my hips, bringing me to the edge of the vanity. 

With a deft movement, he presses himself inside me, and I nearly fall back against the mirror. He pulls me tight against him, slamming into me and I swear, crying out against his shoulder. I grip at his back and let the fullness wash over me. He moves quickly, hard and relentless, and I feel myself wavering around him. How is it possible to feel this good this quickly? 

His hands move around me, and he flips me over, my hips hitting the vanity with a thud. Running a hand down my back, he presses himself into me once more and I melt into the feeling of ecstasy he causes within me. His thrusts are deep and sharp, his pleasure evident through his grip on my body. I feel myself buckle and tighten, the sensation too overwhelming to control. I start to come and the noise around me fades into the pulse of my own blood, and I see a dark aurora borealis behind my eyes. His thrusts are steady and deep, and I groan as I regain my senses. 

I can feel the vibration of his skin and the build of his pleasure and I brace myself with a hand by the mirror. I know he's going to come. 

"Look at me." He commands. Glancing at his reflection causes me to moan, the depth of him inside me crushes my eyes shut as he moves within me, his thrusts uneven as he finishes deep inside me. The silky friction makes me clench around him, enjoying the way his slow movements make me ache with satisfaction. 

As out breathing slows, he turns me to face him and his grip softens. 

He rests his face against mine, lips hovering, and I can feel the blood coursing through me. I sigh, shaking against his burning skin. 

It feels like there are words caught in his throat, and I press my hands against his chest to look up at him. I can feel a wave of uncertainty or hesitation spread through my body as his brow furrows. 

"I can feel you thinking." I whisper, and his eyes close. 

"What's wrong?" I ask, and his lips purse into a line.

"I don't think that I was ever supposed to find you." He says, and I blink in the silence that settles around us. 

"But you did," when he doesn't respond I continue, "maybe we just got lucky." He laughs without humour and I feel his trepidation wrap around my veins. 

"That's the thing about luck. When it's up in one hand, it's down in another." He pulls me against him so I can no longer search his face, and I focus on the rise and fall of his chest. 

After a beat he moves, pulling my clothes from the floor. He holds out my bra and I laugh, looping my arms as he wraps the fabric around me, clasping the bra closed with a snap. He holds my dress in a bunch over my head and I stick my arms up, letting him pull the fabric over me. 

"Told ya I'd help you get dressed." He says, his voice radiates the room and I feel his vulnerability although I don't really understand why. 

I step up and press my lips against his, pulling his arms around me and running my fingers against his jaw. 

"Whatever it is you're thinking is going to happen...you won't experience it alone." As my words fall around our feet I can feel warm return to our embrace and I smile as his hand finds mine. 

"I can feel...you." I mutter, and hope he knows what I mean." He laughs lightly. 

"I can feel you, too." He returns and my chest feels light. 

"What can you feel?" I ask, partially because I want to know if this is happening to him too and partially because I don't know myself. 

"That you're scared, but determined...and really into me." I can't stop the blush that creeps onto my face and I huff at his bravado.

"Is that so?" I ask, pulling back to meet his eyes - an immediate mistake. They knock my stomach to my feet, my body aflame under his gaze and he laughs, rubbing his jaw and puffing out his chest. 

"Yeah you're pretty much a goner for me." I can't even respond, instead I stare at the floor, trying to clear my head of any thought of him.

"Don't try to fight it." He teases, pulling my hand to his chest.

"I have it worse." He says, his mouth near mine, and I feel a flood of heat, of adoration and desire and...Infiniteness. Something resolute and unbreakable in his touch and it makes me ache in a way I hadn't known I could. It is a heavy and deafening certainty that lines my skin with fear. I want to pull back, the sensation almost painful, but I press into him instead. 

"If this is worse, I hope it gets worse for me." I whisper, and he closes the distance between us. 

"Good, because making things worse is kind of my specialty."

**Author's Note:**

> Like? Want more? Feedback is like blood - it is in you to give.


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